by Alan Skinner
‘But she wanted to rescue Kevin, too, and we had a chance with the man and woman away from the camp. If I could distract the dogs and get them to chase me, she could lead Kevin to safety. When I thought they’d had enough time to get away, I’d lose the hounds in the forest and join Crimson back at Home.
‘One of the dogs was still suffering from its encounter with Calamity. It lay near the fire and rose only once to drink water. It looked very sad and sorry, whining and walking very carefully. Even if that hound stayed in camp, we figured Crimson could deal with it.
‘I went through the woods and round the lake to the other side of the camp. I was to draw the dogs away in that direction while Crimson ran in and grabbed Kevin. It seemed simple enough.
‘When I got to the other side, Kevin was by the fire and Calamity’s hound lay nearby. There were two hounds keeping guard but the fourth one was gone. I waited a few minutes, but every minute we waited increased the danger of the man and woman coming back. We had to risk it, so I walked to the edge of the camp.
‘Immediately, the two hounds rounded on me. I turned to run – and found the biggest one right behind me. I tried to go around it, but it lunged and grabbed my back leg with its teeth.
‘I managed to break away but the other hounds were almost on me. I caught a glimpse of Crimson running towards Kevin, calling out to him.
‘He’s a brave one. The hound lying near him got to its feet and went for him. Kevin picked up a big stick and hit the dog hard, right on the nose. I almost felt sorry for the poor creature. It yelped as loud as I’ve ever heard a dog yelp and ran into the tent.
‘By then, I had three hounds on me and, before I knew it, I was fighting for my life. I just hoped that Crimson would have time to get Kevin far enough away before they got bored playing with me.
‘She didn’t, of course. The next thing I knew, Crimson and Kevin were right there, fighting with the hounds. They wouldn’t leave me. Kevin had his piece of wood and Crimson had picked up a metal pot from the fire. Between the stick and the pot they managed to hold their own against one of the hounds.
‘I’m not sure just what happened next. I was on my back. The biggest dog had me by the throat and the other one went for my underside. I saw Crimson’s face appear over the back of the hound on top of me. She and Kevin must have taken care of the third dog. She raised the pot to hit the hound. I didn’t even hear the horses approach, but the next instant the man was towering behind Crimson. He grabbed the pot from her hand and laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a cruel, mean laugh. Crimson said something to him and he laughed again. Then he swung the pot and hit Crimson hard on the side of the head. She fell and I couldn’t see her any more.’
Flyte paused and hung her head. There wasn’t a single sound in the air, as if the whole meadow was listening and had been shocked by Flyte’s words.
‘I felt something I’d never felt before. I wanted to hurt that man. I wanted to hurt the hounds fighting me. I used all the strength I had left to fight back. I felt my teeth rip fur and sink into flesh, and my claws rake to the bone. But it was too late. I didn’t have enough strength left and the hounds wouldn’t stop. And I knew I couldn’t beat them.
‘A woman’s voice called to the hounds. It called several times before they stopped. Her voice was cold and hard. She told them to come, that they had to go and didn’t have time for any more play and, anyway, I was finished.
‘I tried to get up but I couldn’t move. I watched them throw everything into their packs. Kevin was standing while they tied his hands. They must have hit him too, because he had blood on his face. The man came and picked up Crimson. He threw her over the back of his horse, and then he mounted. The woman put a rope round Kevin’s waist. The last thing I remember is watching them ride away, the hounds limping and their tails down. And Kevin walking, pulled behind her horse.
‘I must have fainted. The next thing I remember is hearing Grunge and Slight.’
No one could speak. Tears ran down the cheeks of Reach and Megan. Aunt Mag dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. Slight stared at the ground in disbelief. Calamity rose and sat next to Flyte, her head resting against the wolf’s side.
‘By the . . .’ Brian started, but his voice cracked and he couldn’t continue.
Grunge didn’t move. He stared at Flyte in disbelief. Without saying a word, he got to his feet walked towards the lake.
After a few minutes, Slight got up and followed him out of the camp. The musician was standing, looking across the water. ‘What do we do now?’ Slight asked quietly.
Grunge didn’t answer. He stared into lake. ‘It looks so black and cold when the sun’s light is fading,’ he thought. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
He reached into his pocket and took out his harmonica. He brought it to his mouth, but paused before it touched his lips. The silver casing caught the last faint rays of the sun. Then the musician of Muddlemarsh drew back his arm and threw his harmonica high across the lake. It glinted once, then dropped downwards and disappeared beneath the water.
‘We find Crimson and Kevin,’ he said, facing his friend. ‘Let’s go.’
≈
“I’m going after them,’ Grunge announced to the others back at the camp. ‘My guess is that they’ve gone to the High Mountains. It’s the logical place. There’s too great a chance that a man and a woman on horseback, with two prisoners and four dogs, would be seen if they stayed in Muddlemarsh or Myrmidia. It would be safer in the High Mountains. And that’s the way back to The Place. It’s too late to go tonight. I’ll set out tomorrow. Megan, would you mind driving us back to Home before you return to Beadleburg? I don’t think Flyte’s up to walking just yet.’
‘Of course, Grunge. You didn’t need to ask. We’ll have some dinner at Whist’s when we get there. I don’t know about Aunt Mag and Brian but I’m starving.’
‘Suits me just fine,’ said Aunt Mag. She gave Grunge a hard stare. ‘And over dinner, young man, we’ll discuss this plan of yours, if that’s what you can call it’
Grunge didn’t argue. He’d made up his mind. No one would make him change it.
The bus bounced and rumbled along the valley floor. Between Leaf’s Meadow and the road from Beadleburg to Home the land is flat and grassy. To the east, the land slopes gently upward, gradually folding into the steeps hills of Beadledom. To the west, the valley wall rises sharply into the last of the hills before the land flattens and becomes the plains of Myrmidia. Grunge looked out of the bus window towards Home. Night had fully overtaken day. The half-moon hung just above the hills and he could see the outline of a steep cliff with the tips of coffee trees at the top. They were passing the spot where Leaf had fallen. At that moment, all that had happened over the past few days went through his head: Leaf’s accident, the attack on Calamity and Crimson, Kevin’s abduction, Flyte’s injuries and now Crimson, hurt and taken by strangers.
Without thinking, he reached into his pocket – then remembered where his harmonica was. Grunge smiled ruefully to himself. ‘That will teach me,’ he thought. ‘Think first, throw later.’ He rested his head against the window and stared into the darkness.
Not long after they joined the road, the passengers were jolted when Megan braked hard and swerved. In the headlights of the bus they saw a fox. It stared at them for an instant, then, head down, continued its dash across the road and into the trees.
‘Friend of yours?’ Megan joked to Wave.
Wave frowned. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘That’s odd. It’s not a Muddle.’
A few minutes later, they drove up the main street of Home and stopped outside Whist’s Coffee House. Whist made a great fuss over them and before long they were seated at one of her long tables. eating their dinner. At the end of the table, shiny metals bowls were placed on the floor for Eugene, Flyte and Calamity.
News of their return spread throughout Home and Muddle after Muddle came by to ask what had happened. Eventually Whist set one of her helpers on the door.
‘You tell everyone who comes in they are welcome, of course, but no questions. If they have questions, they can ask those who already have answers,’ she told the helper.
Aunt Mag came straight to the point about Grunge’s plans. ‘I suppose you intend to go off first thing tomorrow, into the High Mountains’ she asked.
‘Yup,’ Grunge replied. ‘We can’t desert them. Besides, Calamity said that man told Crimson that whatever had been done, only she could change. We have to find Crimson.’
‘Well, you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you,’ Aunt Mag said firmly.
‘Thank you, Aunt Mag. That’s not necessary.’ It was Brian who spoke. Aunt Mag glared at him. ‘Now, before you tell me to go to bed without pudding or stand in the corner, let me speak,’ he went on quickly. ‘You’ve left all the little Beadles in the care of your nieces, thinking you would only be away for the afternoon. It is good of you to offer but you will fret about the children if you go.’
Ever since she was a young woman, Aunt Mag had run Beadleburg’s nursery. After twenty years caring for the children, she had been happy to leave her nieces (all of whom hoped to be the next Aunt Mag) in charge of the little ones and journey to the High Mountains to help bring back the blue ice. But she had been just as happy to return. What Brian said was true: she would fret to leave them again.
‘Be that as it may, Brian, I can’t let Grunge go by himself,’ she said stubbornly.
‘He won’t. I have already discussed it, and we will be going with Grunge,’ Brian said firmly, gesturing to Megan.
Aunt Mag tilted her head and gave Megan a critical look. Then she smiled. ‘Perfect,’ she said.
‘Hey, don’t forget me,’ Wave broke in. ‘I’ll go, too.’
‘I’d like to see the High Mountains,’ mused Slight. ‘Count me in.’
‘That makes six,’ yelped Calamity.
‘Five,’ Grunge corrected her. ‘Brian, Megan, Wave, Slight and me.’
‘That’s what I said. Five plus me. Six,’ Calamity barked.
‘Seven,’ rumbled Eugene.
‘Eight,’ came a growl from the floor.
Everyone turned and looked at Flyte. The Beadles didn’t need to understand her to know what she was saying. Aunt Mag started to speak but was stopped by the wolf’s low growl.
‘Eight,’ Flyte repeated. She padded to the hearth. ‘I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.’ She lay down in front of the fire and closed her eyes.
Aunt Mag shook her head. She turned to Megan. ‘You’ll need some things.’
‘I’ll drive back to Beadledom tonight and pick up some stuff for Brian and me. Gertrude can drive me back again,’ said Megan.
Gertrude was Beadleburg’s solicitor. Beadles being what they are (which is to say, very particular and fussy), Gertrude was kept very busy. Her secret passion was driving, though, and whenever Megan needed her, she would close her office and drive the bus for Megan.
‘I’ll stay here and plan our trip,’ said Brian.
‘Thank you, Brian,’ said Grunge, though quite what there was to plan escaped him. Still, planning was one of Brian’s specialities and Grunge figured the Beadle must know best.
Brian tugged on the small chain attached to a button on his waistcoat and looping into a small pocket. He pulled out a key, which he removed from the chain.
‘My house key,’ he said to Megan and handed her the key.
Wave whispered in Slight’s ear. ‘Why do you think he locks his house?’
‘Don’t know,’ whispered Slight. ‘Maybe it’s some Beadle superstition or something.’
Aunt Mag got up from the table. ‘Well, I’ll go with Megan.’ She went to the hearth and softly patted Flyte. ‘Be careful,’ she whispered. She turned back to Megan. ‘Shall we go?’
Megan nodded. ‘I’ll be back in the morning, Brian. Goodnight all,’ she said, and left.
Aunt Mag stopped at the door. ‘Good luck, Grunge. I know you’ll bring them back.’
‘Sure. Thank you, for everything.’ Aunt Mag was almost out the door when a soft throaty rumble came from the hearth.
‘Thank you, Aunt Mag’ said Flyte. Aunt Mag hesitated mid-step, nodded once, and was gone.
When the door closed, the others gathered round the table.
‘What about Patch and Japes?’ asked Slight. ‘Should we wait for them to return from Forge before we go after Crimson? They might have learned what the man and the woman are up to.’
Grunge shook his head. ‘We can’t risk it. They’ll have to stay overnight in Forge and won’t get back until after midday tomorrow. If those strangers are going back to The Place, we might miss them if we wait.’
Brian wondered if Grunge’s concern for Crimson was leading the Muddle into a mistake. ‘Crimson said that these strangers were somehow mixed up with the Myrmidots. Knowing how might tell us where to find them. I think it’s worth waiting a few hours.’
‘We’re all worried about Crimson and Kevin, Grunge,’ said Wave. ‘But I think Brian’s right. Anyway, then Shift can take us to Bourne Bridge in the bus. Beats walkin’.’
‘OK, we’ll wait,’ said Grunge wearily. ‘I just hope Patch and Japes can find out what’s going on.’
Chapter 10
All Is Right with the World
Bellow’s Inn is Forge’s most popular place for older Muddles to eat and relax after work. Younger Myrmidots who have had quite enough grown-up company for one day head next door to Ichabod’s Creamery.
Ichabod’s is a bright, colourful place, perfect for young people. In the very middle is the Shake ’n’ Bubble bar, where the youngsters sit on blue and pink seats and drink frothy cream shakes and bubble water. Tables and chairs and big, deep booths – blue and pink, of course – fill the rest of the establishment. The walls are bright yellow, fringed by a tube of red light running round the top and hemmed by a tube of blue light running round the bottom. Alternating yellow and red tiles cover the floor and all the fittings are polished silver.
One of the most popular attractions is the Spinning Glass. It stands against the wall near the front door. It’s a large wheel decorated in blue, pink, red and yellow. In the centre of the wheel is a mirror, with thin triangular mirrors radiating from it like spokes. When the wheel turns, fragments of everything and everyone in Ichabod’s are reflected in the mirrors, like a giant, reverse kaleidoscope.
The best thing about the Spinning Glass is that it plays music. All night long it spins, first one way, then the other, playing song after song.
That evening, Cres and Touch sat at the Shake ’n’ Bubble bar drinking coffee-flavoured shakes. They were having a wonderful time. There was a steady stream of young Myrmidots clapping them on the back and congratulating them. Cres was embarrassed at first, but before long she was revelling in the pleasure of being famous. They had only been at Ichabod’s an hour and already they had been asked four times to describe how they had broken off the piece of cinerite; and they had lost count of the number of times they had been asked whether it really burned water.
There had been a few incidents which threatened to spoil the evening. At one or two of the booths, the harsh sound of arguing had risen above the music, then faded into truculent silence. And Touch and Cres had been taken aback when an apprentice had said rudely that he “didn’t see what was so special about bringing back a piece of old rock” adding that “If Touch and Cres did it, it was sure to blow up sooner or later.” A few of the other apprentices had laughed, though most had ignored the outburst. Yet Touch and Cres had soon forgotten the incident and continued to enjoy the good wishes of their friends. Cres sipped on her straw. The rasping gurgle of the last drops of froth being sucked through the straw could be heard over the music. She caught Touch’s eye and the two friends laughed.
As their laughter faded, they realised that the music was the only noise around them. All the other young Myrmidots had stopped their lively chatter. Swivelling in their seats, they saw everyone staring at the d
oor. There stood Achillia and Beatrice; but it wasn’t they who drew the astonishment of the crowd. It was the pirate and the jester who stood next to them.
≈
Crimson regained consciousness. Her head throbbed painfully, her body was being jolted and something was pressing on her chest and stomach. She opened her eyes slowly. The ground was passing beneath her. Horses’ hooves flashed in and out of view.
The last thing she remembered was trying to help Flyte . . . The man had grabbed her arm and she had yelled at him to stop the dogs. She remembered him shouting something and his arm going back, and the pot coming straight at her head. That was all. She tried to lift herself to relieve the pressure on her chest and stomach. Pain sliced through her head and she groaned and closed her eyes.
‘Ah, awake at last,’ said a familiar voice.
The horse stopped and Crimson felt the rider dismount. Hands grabbed her jacket and pulled her from the horse. She fell in a heap on the ground. As she opened her eyes, wincing, a man’s face, framed by the darkening sky, came into view. He smiled, but Crimson could see malice in his eyes.
‘Head hurt, does it?’ he said without concern. ‘You’re quite a handful. You’ve cost us a great deal of trouble, Crimson.’
The pain made it difficult for Crimson to focus on what the man was saying. She breathed deeply and evenly, trying to clear her head and rid herself of the fear that welled inside her.
He leaned down until Crimson could feel his breath on her face. ‘You and that wolf hurt my hounds. One of them will always limp.’ His voice was full of hatred. ‘I’m not happy with you, Crimson. And the hounds aren’t thrilled with you either. I think they’d like another go at you.’
Crimson looked him steadily in the eye. She didn’t want him to see how much he frightened her.
Hazlitt took a step back. He whistled sharply. The next instant the four hounds were beside him, their eyes fixed on Crimson.
